Regretfully, Yours Truly

I don’t have very many shiny things.
I don’t have much of the things that should stay.
And I have less of the things that I’ve loved.

What I do have,
What I can show you,
Are inside of me.
And even though I hate them,
Because they represent everything I’ve never had,
They are still everything I was forced to grow.
They are still everything I’ve ever kept.

What I lack in stability,
I make up for in heart,
I make up for in growth,
Discipline,
Patience,
Skills that taught me how to lay a foundation.
A home for things I could have one day,
A home for feelings I’ve never felt.

I was never meant to exist in comfort, I was probably made for the intensity.

For pressure.

For survival.

I wasn’t made to be flashy or quick.

I was probably made for depth.
For the dirt.

Isn’t that strange?
That life could’ve offered me,
Or you,
So many different gifts.
That you or me
Have so many different experiences?

And I can tell you
Life broke me open,
Told me the inside needed resilience,
And so the outside became so bruised
I began to see the world in red, purples, and blues.

And you’d tell me,
Life cut your hands to tell you the blood needed to be cleaned,
So it washed it away in dirty rivers
And let you bleed out anyway.

And yet somehow,
For some reason,
We both know what the other meant.